Almost Normal

September 20, 2015:

Spider-Man and Sara Pezzini foil some would-be jewel thieves.

New York City

Situated between 14th and 59th Streets, Midtown Manhattan is *the* tourist
destination in New York City. It is also the largest central business
district in America. Most of the tallest skyscrapers in the city can be
found here, from the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings to Stark Tower and
the Baxter Building. It's also home to Times Square, Broadway, and Fifth
Avenue.

In the day, the traffic is non-stop. In the evening, bright neon lights
light up the street such that it looks as if the sun simply doesn't set on
the city. But, then, there's a reason New York is called The City that Never
Sleeps. This, right here, is it.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Sundays are quiet in New York… comparatively. For a lazy town it's still hectic, but for a bustling metropolis with several million people the city definitely calms down a touch on the seventh day of the week. The traffic is less, people are out and about in smaller numbers and what numbers there are tend to be near parks or coffee shops. It's almost as if everyone had in part decided to take the day off.

Well, most people. Not the cadre of five men who were intent on using the cover of a few construction signs and cautionary tape as well as some hardhats and orange jackets… all nice disguises for their use of a jackhammer upon the wall in an alley that leads into a jewelry store. Luckily, someone else who doesn't take the weekend off is your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Sliding down a webline slowly and dangling upside down behind the 'foreman' of the curious sunday construction, Spider-Man clears his throat. "Ahem. Hey fellas. Tough gig working today and all. Say you get time and a half for working today?"

Unfortunately for those thieves, that jewel shop has been under surveillance by someone else as well. With some rumors that not all of the jewels in the shop are quite what they seem, SHIELD assigned one Agent Pezzini to keep an eye on the place. She's been sitting in an unmarked car watching the place, and once the men start behind the tape, she's getting out to get a look. "I doubt they pay you enough to upgrade to one of the nicer cells, either," she chimes in as she enters the mouth of the alley, pulling out a badge. "Agent Pezzini, SHIELD. You boys are going to want to put those down before this gets uncomfortable."

At first the appearance of Spider-Man throws the 'foreman'. He spins around and then staggers back a step. "What the?!"

But then he quickly recovers and tries to gather himself together to buffalo through. "Oh uh, heck yeah, uh Spider-Man… you know how it is. Emergency uh… plumbing thing. Water main might go… from the uh winter damage."

"Oh wow, winter damage, that stinks." Spidey replies, his tone a bit earnest.

Then Sara steps out of the car and flashes her ID to the men and the hero. From inside the hole shattered into the wall, another voice comes. "What's goin on out there, Tommy?"

"Uh, some chick and Spider-Man are out here…"

"Who? Whhat?" And then the four other burly men step out back onto the alleyway.

"You men have a work permit?" Sara asks, tucking her badge back into her jacket and stepping a little bit further into the alley. "Fine, upstanding gentlemen like you, I'm sure you did things the way you were supposed to before starting up today, right?" For one of the authorities, she seems remarkably unbothered by the dangling Spider-Man in the shadows. "Because, you know. Working without the proper permits can land you a hell of a fine in this city."

"Uh yeah sure, lady. One sec." The foreman shuffles over to one of their large lunch boxes, pulling it up and flipping the top open. "Got it right, HERE!" And as he says that last word he pulls a .38 out of the black plastic container and brandishes it first in Sara's direction, then in Spider-Man's. "Don't freakin' move! Guys get the other…"

THWIP! And suddenly there's a spherical glob of webbing over that gun and the man's hand even as his comrades start diving for their lunch pails but looking only hungry… for violence!

As the other weapons come out, Spidey drops from the webline standing in front of Sara as if he had to protect her, arms spread and crouched somewhat. "Go call this in Agent, I'll handle this. Okay? Okay."

"You ain't handling nothing Spider- Freak!" And as the foreman says this he swings the webbed pistol at Spidey like a bludgeon.

"I had a feeling that's what the permit was going to look like," Sara sighs as the man comes out with the gun. A decade in NYPD, and she's just not that impressed. When Spider-Man steps in front of her, she looks at his back, amused, as the Witchblade creeps over her right arm into a gauntlet, then crosses her shoulders and arms her torso. Which is probably unsettling for the men who can see it, even if Spider-Man can't. When the attacker swings the gun, a spear reaches over Spidey's shoulder to knock it aside.

As soon as the men break into motion things sort of blur for Spidey. He's not a trained fighter, most everything he does is on instinct. So as soon as that pistol is swung he's already leaping to the side, rebounding off the wall and launching himself into the crowd of men. The foreman's eyes go wide when that metallo-organic spear flashes out and smacks his strike out of line. He has time enough to say, "The hell!?" But then any further outburst is cut off by a sudden boot to the face.

Flipping over the back of one of the men, Spidey fires twin weblines, yanking a pair of firearms out of the hands of two of the thugs. The remaining two take bead, one on Spidey and one on Sara. The weapons buck and crack as they start to fire.

A bullet ricochets off of Sara's forearm as she steps toward the man aiming at her, reaching out to grab the gun in one hand and hit him in the chin with a right hook, followed up by a solid knee to the groin. "Assault on a protected person. Sure, let's add that to the charges. Do you people ever think through the consequences before you do these things?"

The other bullet ricochets off the far wall in the alley as Spidey twists to the side, avoiding the bullet with a turn of his chest. He then leaps forward almost in time with Sara clocking the other, bringing a knee up under the man's chin and knocking him back to hit the ground unconscious.

And in just a flurry of movement the five men are down leaving the two heroes amongst the KOed goons and their construction equipment. Spidey turns to the sidex eyeballing Sara as those mirrored lenses in his mask reflect her image back to her. "Now that's not something you see every dqy." He says lightly even as he gestures with a nod towards that weirdness on her arm and chest. "But hey thanks for the assist."

"Certainly hope not," Sara smiles tightly back at Spidey, the Witchblade retracting until it's just a bracelet at her wrist. "On the other hand, I could probably say the same. Little bit. Thanks for keeping an eye out," she adds, pulling out a bundle of zip ties to start securing the goons. "Probably would've been bad news if they'd gotten some of the stuff in there."

"Hey, no problem." Spider-Man steps back from the mess as Sara starts to secure the miscreants. He crawls up the side of the wall slowly, just enough to be able to perch at shoulder height with only the bottoms of his feet somehow being able to hold him up. "But I was under the impression you SHIELD people didn't dirty yer dainty lil fingers with something as unglamorous as street crime. I thought for you folks it was giant evil terrorist organizations or nothing."

"WAND division," Sara replies, looking up with a faint smirk. "Supernatural branch. And it just so happens, some of the pieces in that shop are…" She trails off, pausing as she tries to remember what the technical wording said. "Potential focus items. Or something like that. Beats the hell out of me. Did ten years in NYPD, though. Nice to get back to something that's a little bit more normal." She barks a laugh. "This actually qualifies as normal."

"So normal for you is busting up some criminals trying to steal magical doodads with the help of a dashing arachnid. You must lead a strange life there in WAND…" There's a pause as Spidey sort of tilts his head to the side, "And seriously… WAND?" He seems to roll the name over in his mouth for a moment then repeats, "WAND? The other SHIELD divisions must pick on you guys something fierce."

"Cutesy, right? On the up side, my reports are no longer a bunch of half-assed lies about gas line explosions," Sara notes, straightening up from the goon and brushing her hands off on her pants. "So it sort of balances out. Also, I'm pretty good at kicking their asses when they open their mouths, so. Dashing arachnid?" she smirks, pulling out her phone to send in for a bus to pick up the goons. "Haven't seen that one in the paper."

"Yeah, the Bugle tends to have more colorful phrases to describe me." Spidey does lets a touch of annoyance creep into his voice even as he sidles up the wall a bit more. He gestures with a toss of a nod towards her, "Calling the boys in blue? If so I should probably beat feet. They don't entirely look positively on my umm, life choices, as it were."

There's a pause and he cocks his head to the side to look at her curiously, "I mean no offense since you were NYPD and all but those fellas kinda have a one track mind. Just because a fellow sort of breaks the law now and then in his pursuit of vigilante justice…"

"You should leave before you tell me something you don't want me to know," Sara notes in a dry tone, looking up with a faint smirk. "Thanks for the assist, bug-boy. I'll put in a good word for you with SHIELD. You get nabbed, tell them to call Pezzini."

"Hey, don't let it be said I don't know when to take my leave." Spider-Man lifts both hands, firing a twin webline across the way towards the lip of a distant rooftop. "Thanks for doing all the heavy lifting Pezzini!" And with that he leaps off the side of the wall, the weblines tightening and launching him into the sky. A few moments later and he swings out of sight.

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